


Every Gray Hair, Every Wrinkle

by katikat



Category: MacGyver (TV 2016)
Genre: Coda, Friendship, Gen, Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-02
Updated: 2017-12-02
Packaged: 2019-02-09 17:17:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,194
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12892884
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/katikat/pseuds/katikat
Summary: An h/c coda to MacGyver, ep 209. Mac’s personally responsible for every gray hair on Jack’s head, for every one of his wrinkles… (Unbeta'd)





	Every Gray Hair, Every Wrinkle

**Author's Note:**

> There wasn't enough comfort for the amount of hurt that happened in the ep. That needed to be rectified.

It’s the sensation that he’s being stared at that wakes Mac up. Slowly, he opens his eyes and turns his head to the side. And grins sleepily.

“You’re not nearly as pretty a picture to wake up to as Cage was,” he comments a little hoarsely.

Jack, who’s sitting slumped in the chair with his arms crossed over his chest, huffs in mock annoyance. “Really? First some dude calls me old and now  _you_ call me  _ugly_. This is what I have to deal with…” He shakes his head.

Mac’s smile widens and he rolls onto his side, towards Jack, moving carefully, mindful of his wounded leg - and the cramps that still seize him from time to time, at the most inopportune moments.

“What are you doing here?” he asks quietly, tucking one arm under his head. “It must be really late.”

Jack checks his watch. “Yeah, it is. When I came in, you were asleep, so I sent Cage home and stuck around.”

“Yeah, but  _why_? I’m okay, Jack,” Mac assures him, rubbing his midriff with his free hand in an attempt to ward off another cramp. In vain. A moment later, his insides seize sharply, stealing his breath. 

Squeezing his eyes shut, Mac groans and grits his teeth, fisting his hand into his blanket. He hears Jack sit up and lean forward, hears him ask if he’s alright. Not having enough air to respond verbally, Mac just nods. He knows that it’ll pass in a minute, that there’s nothing anybody can do about the cramps, he just needs to ride it out…  _ride it out… ride it out._

When the cramp finally passes, Mac’s whole body slumps in relief and he takes a deep, shuddery breath. He wipes the sweat off his forehead and notices that his hand’s shaking. He’s not the only one.

“ _That_ doesn’t look  _‘okay’_  to me,” Jack comments softly, brows furrowed in concern. He’s leaning forward with his elbows propped up on his knees, watching Mac like a hawk.

“Yeah, well,” Mac replies in a voice that’s even hoarser and smiles crookedly. “That’s what you get for inhaling deadly nerve gas. There’re pesky consequences. I’m lucky to be alive.”

Jack’s frown deepens. He doesn’t find it funny. And the truth is, Mac doesn’t think it’s funny either. This time, it was really close. Yet he can’t think of a single thing they - or  _he_ \- could’ve done differently. It was either just him or all of them. And as much as this sucks, it wouldn’t have sucked any less if he shared the room with Jack, Cage and all of the SWAT guys at the scene. So. As he told Cage,  _occupational hazard_.

“About that,” Jack starts, his mouth twisting. “If I asked you really,  _really_  nicely, would you stop doing that?”

Mac’s lips quirk up. “Doing what?”

“Almost dying? Every time you almost get yourself killed, I age  _ten years_! No wonder that punk thought me a grandpa! Every single gray hair on my head, every wrinkle on this mug is your fault,  _yours personally_!” Jack points at him, both his finger and his tone very accusing.

Now Mac smiles fully. “I promise I’m not doing it on purpose, Jack.”

“No? Buddy, I watched you lock yourself up in a room with a leaking canister of poison–”

“Would you’ve preferred I let half of New York die?” Mac points out reasonably.

But it’s as if Jack didn’t hear him. “–and then you grabbed a pair of scissors and you  _stabbed_ yourself! Like it was  _nothing_!” His voice climbs a little at end so that his short tirade ends almost in a shout. He seems very upset.

“Jack, I needed time, I needed to slow down the effects of the gas–”

Now it’s Jack’s turn to interrupt him. “By  _stabbing_ yourself with  _scissors_?!”

“It was the closest thing at hand,” Mac objects. He considers that a reasonable answer.

Jack has a different opinion, obviously. He shakes his head. “Out of all I’ve just said, of course you would focus on the ‘scissors’ and not the ‘stabbing’ part. Of course you would. Of course,” he mutters, rubbing his face aggressively.

Sighing, Mac curls up on his side. “Jack, I really didn’t know what else to do, alright? Saving you all, that was all that mattered to me.”

Looking up, Jack reaches out and pats Mac’s hand, the one resting on top of the blanket. “I know, kid. I’m not saying you did anything wrong. The  _whole plan_ was stupid. Sure, we got our guy -  _and_ woman - but it was too risky and we shouldn’t have done it.”

Mac smiles a little again. “Don’t let Matty hear you.”

“Oh, I told her outright, buddy,” Jack admits. “There might’ve even been some shouting. She might be our boss and responsible for the whole operation - but  _I’m_ responsible for  _you_ , me, personally, out there, in the field. And when I saw you in that room, with all that deadly gas, when I had to watch you stab yourself -  _stab yourself_ , kid! Do you have any idea what–” His voice breaks and he looks away.

Mac watches him with his lips pinched in regret but… what can he say? Sorry you had to watch? Because Mac’s not sorry he did it, only that Jack had to see and, well, saying something like  _that_ would not go over well, he bets.

“Jack…” he whispers simply in the end and leaves his friend’s name hanging in the air.

Jack looks up and smiles at him a little painfully. “It’s moments like these that make me realize that our job’s not just fun and games, you know? I like to joke and rile you up, make fun of you so that I don’t have to think about how it could all end one day - like  _this_ ,” he waves his hand at Mac and the hospital bed, “but in a much more permanent way. If you died on my watch, Mac…” He falls silent and shakes his head again.

Mac opens his mouth to say…  _something_ , but before he can do that, Jack sits up and clears his throat and in a stronger voice, he says, “Well, I just wanted to make sure you were okay or, well, as okay as you can be, under these circumstances.”

Then he gets up and pats Mac on the knee gently, mindful of his injury. “I’ll let you rest. If you need anything, there’s one of our people stationed outside, in the hallway. No buts,” he adds, seeing that Mac’s about to protest. “You’re not well enough yet to fend for yourself and there’re people out there,  _dangerous_ people, who would just  _love_ to get their hands on you and you know that!”

Mac winces a little. Yeah, he knows.

Jack smiles down at him. “Sleep well, kid. I’ll see you in the morning.”

Mac smiles back. “Goodnight, Jack.”

He doesn’t think he’ll sleep any time soon; he’s aching all over and his mind’s alive with thoughts and emotions. And yet, before the door closes behind Jack, Mac’s eyes fall shut and exhaustion claims him after all, making everything go away.


End file.
